to Yuri over a mug of hot chokolad. When Mama and mamika Morganya had sat together by her bed, stroking her hair until their murmurs faded into dreams.
But it was impossible to think of the Palace without thinking of the cracks that had spread over the years. Papa, turning away from her. Sadov, smiling at her pain. All this, built on the fabric of corruption that had allowed for the nobility to profit from the pain of Affinites.
Home would never again carry the same meaning for her, Ana realized. And as she straightened in her saddle, Shamaïra’s words whispered to her in the winter wind. No, Little Tigress—we take what we are given and we fight like hell to make it better.
Ana opened her eyes. She was the heiress of the Mikhailov line, the Little Tigress of Salskoff, and she was coming home.
In ten years, nothing and everything about her city had changed.
Walking through the moonlit and snow-dusted streets, hidden under her thick hood, Ana almost felt as though she were in a strange dream. The memories she had of Salskoff were all from her childhood, before she had been confined to the Palace. The dachas that she’d so fondly nicknamed “gingerbread houses” as a child were still there, smoke piping cheerfully from chimneys; the marketplaces that she and Luka had frequented (under Kapitan Markov’s sharp-eyed stare) sat festooned in decorative silver sashes; tall arches with marble statues of the Deities and the Cyrilian white tiger stood proud and regal over town squares and main streets.
At this time of year, the town was alight with festivities. Silver banners of the Cyrilian white tiger hung from every door, paper snowflakes fluttered between lampposts, and candles flickered softly on each doorstep as Salskoff welcomed their patron Deity of Winter. Most of the town had likely congregated at local pubs by the Tiger’s Tail river where they could see the Palace, awaiting news of the abdication and Coronation.
Ana and Linn had changed into modest, fur-lined woolen gowns to blend in at the Coronation, Ana’s a dark shade of green and Linn’s navy blue. Under the moonlight, the Kemeiran carved a slender figure, but Ana knew beneath the furs and layers of her skirts were daggers, strapped to her ankles, arms, and waist.
They selected an empty side street that led straight to the main riverside promenade. Even from afar, Ana could tell the promenade was clogged with traffic. The lights of lampposts lanced off gilded carriages and caught on the snow-white coats of valkryfs every so often.
Ana and Linn needed somewhere quiet and dark, away from prying eyes.
Ana was glad for the cloak of night as she and Linn huddled against a corner, beneath the awning of a closed store. With a flick of her wrists, Linn summoned winds that extinguished the nearby lamps, plunging the area into darkness.
They waited. Minutes passed. And then, from far off, drawing closer, was the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats and carriage wheels.
Before Ana could even blink, Linn was gone, stealing toward the carriage like a shadow. She flitted to the back and, with acrobatic precision, slipped through the door.
Silence. Ana’s heart pounded out the moments. Her palms sweated. The carriage trundled on, the driver oblivious to what was happening inside.
And then the door swung open soundlessly. Linn’s head popped out. She held up a hand and cut a sharp signal through the night with a finger. One.
There was only one passenger inside the carriage. They needed a second invitation.
Ana motioned at Linn. You go. I’ll find another.
She could make out, in the near-total darkness, the way Linn’s silhouette tensed with consternation. Ana shook her head again and waved her hand. Go.
A slight pause, and then Linn vanished inside. The door shut without so much as a tap.
The whole affair had taken less than a minute.
Ana melted back into the shadows, watching the carriage bearing Linn roll toward the riverside promenade that led to the Palace.
It wasn’t long before another carriage appeared.
Following Linn’s strategy, she ducked behind the carriage as it rolled past and hopped onto the back. Linn had made it look effortless, but a jolt of the carriage nearly sent Ana flying, and her hands scrabbled for purchase.
Holding steady, Ana caught a breath and stretched her Affinity, searching the inside of the carriage. One body, blood warm and pulsing.
Ana opened the carriage door and swung herself inside. She had wrapped her Affinity around the woman’s neck even before she closed the door behind her. The unfortunate noblewoman